Ravensong
by Flattest Bread
Summary: A decade long search finally reunites mother and daughter. For Yang, the answers she receives may not be the ones she hoped to hear. For Raven, bittersweet memories of years past resurface, and age old scars threaten to rupture. Not all paths are destined to converge, no matter how much those walking them may long to. (Canon Divergence - Volume 5)
1. Chapter 01

The jingle of the door chime pierced through the silence of the saloon, turning the heads of both men towards the entrance. Yang stepped inside, taking a moment to look around. Like the previous roadside establishments she had stopped by, the place was rather small, with only three modestly sized wooden tables set so close together there would be no room to walk past them if the chairs paired with them were occupied. Fortunately, there was room to spare, with the only other patron a willowy man with black hair and orange eyes seated at the bar.

Their eyes met. His rugged face, made distinct by a trio of scars running parallel beneath his left eye, stayed motionless while his pupils ran up and down her body, as if sizing her up. He raised his brow and curled the corner of his lip up, as if her appearance amused him. Before she could speak up, he spun around on the stool, grabbed a bursting bag that clinked and clattered with the sounds of glass bottles, sauntered off to the chair furthest away from the door, and settled down to look out the window.

Yang turned her attention towards the man behind the bar: a portly man with balding, graying hair and a stubbly chin. "Good weather for traveling, innit, miss?" he remarked.

"Maybe a little too hot though," Yang replied, cracking a smile and fanning her head as she made her way over to the bar. "Can I get a nice big glass of water? Oh, and extra ice."

"Of course."

Yang chugged down the water as quickly as it had been prepared, though she couldn't but help to notice the bartender studying her face with furrowed brows all the while.

"Hey, aren't you that huntress student who busted up that kid's leg on live TV?" the bartender said as he rubbed his chin.

Memories of the Vytal Festival briefly flooded back into Yang's mind. "Yeah, I… I guess you could say that," she replied, eyes cast downward.

"Hoo boy, you really did a number on him," he chuckled back. "Though next time, if you're settling a grudge, you might want to do it off the camera."

"I didn't have a-" Yang stopped herself and sighed. "You know what? Forget it."

The bartender shrugged. "Whatever you say, miss. So, what brings a lone student all the way out here in the middle of nowhere?"

"Mostly just passing by. I'm on my way to Haven."

"Headed to the academy?"

"You could say that."

"Well, I don't know if you know, missy, but this might be what you call a scenic route, and I'm not sure taking the scenic route is a good idea in a time like this," he said, scratching his head. "Ever since all that stuff in Vale, the Grimm have been going wild, and all the kingdom's huntsman are scrambling left and right to try to hold em down. Thanks to that, business has been pretty slow." He gestured towards the other patron.

"I know," Yang said, recalling her journey so far. Though she stayed on the main roads, she still encountered small packs of the foul monsters on multiple occasions. She could only imagine how much worse the situation was in the less civilized, less traveled areas. "But I'm also looking for someone, and I heard rumors she was in the area. The route's a little longer, but if I can find her, I might be able to kill two birds with one stone."

"Ah," the bartender said. "There aren't a lot of people around these parts though, little miss. What with the Grimm and the bandits and whatnot."

Yang's expression perked up. "The bandits, led by Raven Branwen, correct? She's who I'm looking for."

A series of coughs and hacks turned her attention to the other customer, who had apparently choked on his drink. Once he settled down, he returned his gaze back outside. However, Yang's intuition told her that as soon as she turned back towards the bartender, the willowy man's eyes bored into the back of her head.

The bartender's expression turned grim. He shook his head. "I suggest you don't go poking a Lancer's nest, little miss. Even most of the kingdom's licensed huntsmen don't want to go around messing with them nowadays, and those are the pros. A kiddo like you? They're way above your pay grade. You're going to be throwing your life away, and that's if you actually manage to find them."

It was Yang's turn to shake her head. "I'm not looking for a fight."

He raised his brow. "Then what're you doing looking for _the_ Raven Branwen? What, huntress training not working out, so you're deciding on being a bandit?" He snorted at the idea.

"No, it's… It's for another reason," Yang said, sighing. "So do you know where they are, or not?"

"Of course not. I'm not stupid enough to go mess around and piss off some bandits. Ain't that right, Rook?" he replied, turning his gaze towards the other customer.

The willowy man scoffed. "Ain't anybody that stupid and still alive around here."

"Well, you heard it. Best for you to drop that search of yours and head straight to Haven."

Yang sighed. It didn't seem likely the bartender would say anymore regarding the matter. She'd simply have to try the next stop for more information. "Thanks for the advice, I guess," she said as she stood up. "Do you have a restroom I can use?"

He pointed at the unmarked door directly behind the man named Rook. With a nod, she made her way to the restroom, failing to notice the look that the two men gave each other as she went in.

Like the rest of the establishment, the bathroom was cramped and rather bare boned, with barely enough room for one to turn without making contact with either the sink or the walls. Yang chuckled at the image of the portly bartender trying to fit in the small space as she rested her hands on the sink. Thoughts of her last conversation with her father ran through her mind.

"If you're headed to Haven, then I think you should know this," Tai said, crossing his arms as he leaned against the door. He closed his eyes, and inhaled and exhaled sharply. "Your… your mother is in Mistral."

Yang's eyes widened.

"Yeah, kinda explains why you never found much about her around here or Vale, huh? 'I'm sorry Yang, but your mother is on another continent'," Tai laughed. Before Yang could roll her eyes at the joke, he cleared his throat and continued. "I know we've never really talked about your mother in all these years. Heck, I'm willing to bet your uncle's talked about her more than me. But… you're an adult now, and if you still want to find her, then it's not really my place to go and stop you."

It was his turn for his eyes to widen, as Yang approached and promptly embraced him. "Thanks, dad," she whispered. "Not just for this, but for these past couple of months too."

"Anything for my baby girls," he whispered back, gently patting the back of her head.

"Are you sure you want me to go looking for Raven, though? I don't know if you've heard Uncle Qrow, but he's always calling her dangerous."

"Well, I don't know if I'd say I want you to go looking for her, and your uncle wasn't lying. She can get pretty… dangerous, especially if you get on her bad side. Kind of like you."

"Hey!"

Tai laughed. "But I think she'll make an exception for you. Just don't go trying your hardest to push her buttons."

She snorted. "Alright dad, I'll keep that in mind."

"Besides," he said, breaking the embrace with a somber smile on his face. "There are probably questions you have that only she can answer."

Yang's mind snapped back to the present. She frowned. Though the prospect of finding her mother had seemed likely when she first landed in Mistral, it seemed that the closer she got to the bandits, the less the citizens were willing to talk about them. She could only guess how long it might take to track them down by herself.

"Maybe I should just head straight to Haven," she muttered. She stared at the reflection of her in the mirror as she pondered her next course of action. "You know what? If I don't get a good clue in one more day, I'll just go find Ruby."

After giving her face a quick wash, she left the restroom. That other guy must have left while I was inside, she thought. Only the portly bartender remained in the saloon, wiping down a drinking glass.

"I'm going to be on my way. How much for the water?" she asked.

The bartender gave a wave of his hand. "It's just some water. Think of it as on the house as long as you take care of any Grimm on the road."

"Oh, thanks," Yang said. "Don't worry, I'll make sure I beat down any I see." With an acknowledging nod and a jingle of the door chime, she left the establishment.

The heat of the outside air crashed over her as soon as she stepped out. She let out a heavy sigh, wondering how long it would take for her to reach the next stop as she started up Bumblebee. Two revs later, the motorcycle roared into action, and the saloon quickly disappeared behind her.

Barely a minute passed before she felt something amiss. Out of the corner of her eyes, she sensed a shadow moving among the trees to the side of the road. She stepped on the gas. The motorcycle surged forth until it ran at twice its previous speed, yet the shadow continued to keep at her pace. There was no doubt about it. Whoever, or whatever it was, was following her.

Yang activated her aura and brought the vehicle to a screeching halt. She leapt off, cocking the shotguns of her gauntlets in midair. As soon as her feet hit the ground, she brought herself to fighting stance facing the tree line. "I know you're there. Show yourself!" she yelled out. When no response came, she cocked Ember Celica a second time.

"You know, now that I can get a real good look at you, I have to say, you really are a spitting image of her." The rough voice dripped of derisiveness. The bushes rustled, and out stepped the owner of the voice.

"You… You're the man from the bar," Yang said. There was no mistaking the three horizontal scars beneath those orange eyes of his. "Your name's Rook, isn't it?"

The willowy man smirked and set his bag on the floor. He took a moment to brush some leaves off the shoulders of his gray, button-less, zipper-less jacket and his pony-tail with his black gloved hands. "Correct. And you are Yang Xiaolong, the one and only daughter of our very own Raven Branwen, aren't you?"

Yang's eyes narrowed. "_Our_ Raven Branwen? Are you supposed to be one of her men?"

"You could say that." He crossed his arms. "If you're looking for your dear little mother, then I suggest you follow me."

"How do I know you're actually leading me to her?"

He snorted. "You don't. You can either trust me and hope I lead you to your mother, or you don't trust me, continue running along to wherever you're headed, and risk losing the only chance you'll ever have of finding her."

She stared into his eyes for a full minute before she lowered her arms. Thinking back to the time in the saloon, she had noticed him watching her the moment she stepped foot inside. There was little doubt now it was because he saw the similarities between mother and daughter. "Alright, lead the way."

Rook shook his head and finger. "Ah ah ah, not so fast kiddo. You see, our people follow one very important rule. The strong live, the weak die. And there are no exceptions, not even for her daughter." He paused to begin cracking his knuckles one by one. "You don't get to see her just because you get a little lucky and run into me. You're going to have to prove yourself worthy, first."

"So what, you won't do it unless I beat you down first?" Yang said, returning to a fighting stance.

"Well, aren't you brimming with confidence?" He chuckled, the smirk on his face irritating Yang the longer she saw it. "But confidence can only bring you so far, and it definitely won't bring you that far. Don't worry though, you'll only have to impress me, and I promise I won't go all out."

She growled. "I'll do more than that."

She combined her leap with the recoil from a blast behind her, closing the distance between them in a fraction of a second. Her other fist, aiming for the obnoxious smirk on his face, missed its target as he stepped backwards. He was certainly a fast opponent, though she expected nothing less.

She immediately transitioned her momentum into a roundhouse kick aimed at his center of mass. He dodged the attack with relative ease, and continued to dodge the flurry of jabs and hooks she threw at him with the smallest of movements such that each blow missed by less than an inch. The expression on his face never changed even as he began to use his hands to block and redirect the accelerating number of punches she launched. From the way he moved to the way he acted, he reminded her of an old opponent whom she suffered a total defeat from, and the memories only served to spur her to fight faster, harder, and smarter than in the past.

With a snort, he leapt a dozen feet back. She followed him closely, never letting up her assault in an attempt to deprive him of room to breath. He had yet to draw his weapons: a set of small knives strapped with a belt, and she had no intention of allowing him to do so now.

Don't give him the chance to go on the offensive, she thought. She began to incorporate blasts from her guns halfway through punches, relying on the supersonic speed of the bullets to strike faster than she could, and then shooting again out the back of her gauntlets to immediately follow through with recoil-boosted swings.

Two such attacks later, she earned herself a mildly surprised face from him. With nothing but his bare hands to shield himself, her tactics finally managed to begin chipping away at his aura with increasing numbers of clipping blows. He blocked one more jab and dodged one more hook before retaliating with a forceful elbow into her side, pushing her multiple feet backwards.

"Heh, well, you certainly aren't a pushover on the offense, but let's see how you do on the defense," he said, now taking up a fighting stance and returning the smirk to his face.

"Shut up," Yang snarled back, punching forwards twice and firing two shots at his person.

The bullets whistled through the air before striking the ground where he had stood a moment before. He leapt high into the air, the debris and shrapnel barely missing his legs.

She had guessed he would evade in such a manner. Making such a large leap left him vulnerable in the air, unable to take further evasive maneuvers until he made contact with the ground again. Her eyes lighting up at the opening, she whipped her arms behind her and fired away, the recoil from Ember Celica propelling her into him with a readied fist.

But this time, she met an invisible force to her collarbones only inches away from his face, nearly knocking the wind out of her from the sheer surprise and actually knocking her back onto the dirt.

She rapidly righted herself to see him begin to throw a series of lightning fast jabs into the air in front of him. She would have wondered what he was doing, if not for the string of blows she felt targeted at her gut. Five, six, seven, eight consecutive hits to her stomach in the span of a second before a large haymaker from his position sent an equally large strike to the side of her ribs and sent her crashing multiple feet away.

"Careful there, kiddo. I said I won't use my full strength," Rook said, his fists up close to his face now. "But that doesn't mean this won't hurt."

Yang blinked as she scrutinized her opponent. His hands were still bare, and she saw no projectiles come from his person. How was he hitting her from such a range? Could it be his semblance? But what kind of semblance could allow him to strike her with no visual indications? Her mind raced through the possibilities. Could it be he emitted shockwaves with each of his attacks?

Keeping her eyes laser focused on the movements of his arms, she tanked two more invisible hits to her gut before managing to roll and absorb the force of one and counter a wide swing with a swing of her own. She leapt to her right, taking care to fire twice with Ember Celica while in the air. He dodged the first shot with relative ease, though the second shot exploded in front of his feet, enshrouding him in smoke and dust.

Now's my chance, she thought. Once more, she propelled herself forward by shooting behind her, landing to the side of the smoke. Stay on him, don't let him get to use his semblance, she reminded herself as she reared her right arm in preparation for a hook.

But the dust settled just in time for her to see a smirk on his face as he parried the hook with a sideways knee, Worse, a heavy force to her head accompanied the parry, sending her six feet back on her bottom.

She barely had time to wonder where the force came from before he returned to punching the air. This time, however, the blows came from the side rather than her front, and she suffered three blows to her ribs and one more blow to her head with no chance to counter them.

"Nice try, but you won't be blocking these that easily."

And indeed, when she brought her forearms up in an attempt to block a series of jabs that seemed to be aimed at her chest, she instead felt them striking the left and right of her stomach in rapid succession. An axe kick in which she tried to cover her head for instead struck her between her collarbones, knocking her down onto the ground and the wind out of her lungs.

"But you know, as far as city folk go, you're not too shabby," Rook chuckled, crossing his arms as Yang pushed herself back up. "Though, as far as her daughter, I expected at least a little more than that."

"I said, shut up," she snarled, her teeth clenched as tightly as her fists. She still had a little less than half her aura remaining, and the repeated hits she tanked lay ready for her to activate her semblance. All she had to do was…

The swing of a sword. The splattering of blood. The smoke, the ashes, the hotness of the ground upon her cheeks. She gasped as the memories flashed through her head. Her left hand trembled.

"Relax, you passed the test," he said, smiling. "Barely, but you passed. Besides, it's a long road ahead of us, with plenty of Grimm to take care of, so running out of aura would probably be a bad idea."

She watched him as he uncrossed his arms and strolled back to pick up his bag, her thoughts jumbled. Should she be relieved the fight was over before she used her semblance? The idea of rushing forwards seemed an unappealing idea with those horrid memories in mind, yet she failed even with all that effort to wipe the stupid smirk off his face.

With a sigh and a deep breath, she calmed herself down and unarmed Ember Celica, making her way back to her motorcycle.

"Well then, shall we?" he said, bowing. No doubt another way of mocking her.

She turned to look at the seat behind her. "Aren't you going to get on?"

"No, unlike you, I don't get winded after a short spar. Now, do your best to keep up," he chuckled as he spun around and sprinted into the trees.

Yang inhaled sharply, frowning once more at his cheeky grin. Only the prospect of finally getting answers for the million questions she reserved for her birth mother stopped her from throttling the man. She started up Bumblebee and followed him off the road into the great unknown.


	2. Chapter 02

In the past, Yang had utmost confidence in her stamina. After all, any huntsman worth their salt maintained a high degree of physical fitness, least of all a huntsman raised under the tutelage of two of the best in recent decades. Throughout her adolescence, she partook in numerous marathons as tests of her ability, and even won a scattered few. One could even argue her athleticism stood head and shoulders above the vast majority of the now dispersed Beacon student body, including those her senior.

But nothing had truly prepared her for the grueling seven hour sprint through a forest with her beloved motorcycle in tow. Or had it been eight hours?

Only an hour after leaving the main road, the terrain changed into one too treacherous and uneven for her to continue riding Bumblebee. Lacking the will to abandon her vehicle in the middle of nowhere, she chose to continue on foot while pushing, dragging, or carrying it alongside her. Now, however, she felt the slightest tinges of regret at her decision. Keeping up with the brisk pace of the unburdened Rook proved to be quite the uphill battle, both figuratively and literally, as the gradually increasing slope compounded upon her troubles.

Throughout the entirety of the journey, he stayed far ahead of her, darting from branch to ground to branch with nary a sweat to be shed or pant to be had. Whenever he would come close to disappearing into the distance, he would stop to turn around and deliver the infuriating, shit-eating grin she had come to recognize him for. Each time, his smug expression would set afire the anger boiling within her. Each time, that anger would spur her to surge forward with renewed vigor, And each time, he would match her increased speed until fatigue latched back upon her legs, weighing her down as if she were chained to ten ton weights.

"I'm going to strangle him before I leave," she muttered, though she barely had the breath to do so. Sweat cascaded down her forehead and neck, and clung her attire onto her skin. She wanted to wipe it all away, as uncomfortable as it made her, but her hands were tied with Bumblebee, and she didn't even have the time to marvel at the beautiful scenery surrounding her, appreciate the brilliant rays of orange snaking their way past the canopy to dye the forest in a vibrant mahogany.

She wanted a break. No, she _needed_ a break. She knew the source of the burning sensation came not just from the man's smugness, but also her calves, her quads, and every other muscle in her lower body. They screamed for her to stop, if only for a minute. Only the thunderous pounding of her heartbeat came close to drowning out their pleas.

But she would be damned if she ever admitted weakness to Rook. She had little doubt the man would gloat endlessly the moment she did so, and Grimm would make peace with mankind long before she allowed that to happen. Thus, she pushed aside her pains. Her eyes focused on tracking his silhouette amid the trees, and her mind drifted to memories of years past

She remembered when she first discovered the existence of her mother. She remembered the bluish hue of the bedroom, barely illuminated by thin rays of moonlight peeking through the drawn shades. She remembered catching a glimpse of her father's puffy, swollen eyes from countless nights of tearful sleep before he picked her up and placed her upon his lap, hugging her face tightly against his chest. She remembered listening to his words to the tune of his heartbeat, thumping as uneasily as his ragged, cracking voice. How the two sounds, quiet as they were, rang so clearly in the dead silence. How his breath reeked of the distinct smell of alcohol, that reminded her of her uncle in the worst of ways.

She remembered how her childish mind leapt at the thought of having another mother, how she spent the days following that night searching and digging through the house for evidence of her father's tale, how confused she felt when he met her questions and curiosity with naught but a choke and resigned shake of his head.

She remembered her wonder and joy when she discovered that sole photograph, safely tucked away in the deep recesses of her father's files. She remembered the old, worn feel of the paper, upon which she traced her clammy, shaking fingers over countless times; the colors, all fading save the brilliant crimson held within her mother's eyes which she gazed into for hours with intense trepidation, alone in her room; the tightness which she held it with, as if it would blow far, far away the moment she let go.

She remembered her old, naive fantasies: of opening the front door to see that same, warm smile towering above her as her mother reached down to wrap her in a loving embrace, whispering tearful apologies and reassurances into her ears; of waking from a peaceful night's sleep between the bosoms of adoptive and birth mother.

Yang's heart ached as she recounted those past dreams. How long ago had it been since she accepted them as impossibilities? How many years had gone by since those feelings of excitement and elation soured into feelings of ire and fury, since those then calmed into a simple but ever present curiosity?

So engrossed she was, that she nearly ran into the standing Rook. She snapped out of her thoughts to watch as he raised his brow.

"Hello, is anyone there?" he said, waving in front of her face.

Growling, she pushed his hand away. "What?"

He snorted. "Do you hear it?"

"Hear what?"

"Wow, I didn't know you were deaf, too."

She clenched her fist for a moment. Relax, she told herself. There were more important things than punching his very punchable face. Perhaps later, she would. For now, she simply closed her eyes to concentrate.

If she possessed the emotive feline ears of her runaway teammate, they would have perked up. In the distance came the faint roar of a waterfall. As it were, her very much human ears simply twitched.

"I'm guessing you can hear it now. Means we're close." He cocked his head as he noticed the sweat dripping off her brow and the rather ragged breaths she drew in. "What's the matter, _winded_?"

"No, I'm fine," she said, glaring at him.

"You sure about that? The rest of you seems to say otherwise."

She rolled her eyes and wiped away the sweat on her forehead. "It's just hot," she said, peeling the collar of her shirt off her neck.

"_Uh huh. _If you needed a break, all you had to do was ask."

As if he ever gave her the chance to do so. She bet that if she paused just for a drink of water, he'd disappear and leave her stranded and lost in the forest. Her increasing irritation was clear in her voice. "Can you shut up and just lead me the rest of the way?"

He snorted again. "Whatever you say."

She expected him to dart off like a bullet and leave her trailing behind again. She was pleasantly surprised when he simply turned around and started walking.

"Why are you looking for Raven, anyway?" he said before she could get lost in her thoughts again.

"It's none of your business."

She heard him scoff, before returning to the silence she had known him for in the previous hours. The roar of the waterfall grew louder and louder, slowly but surely drowning out the muted crackle and rustle of foliage beneath their feet.

When they finally came across the neatly constructed wooden palisade, it took but a single glance for her to understand the strategic location and clever camouflage of the camp. Leaven roofs adorned the tops of the stakes that lacked the cover of the forest canopy, resembling small trees themselves and thereby disguising the perimeter from an aerial perspective. The noise of the waterfall would mask the majority of the sounds coming from the settlement while also providing a source of fresh water, and perhaps even fish. Lastly, the slope had petered out, leading her to guess they stood close to the peak of the hill, giving the people a vantage point to overlook a vast portion of the nearby land.

"Who's the girl, Rook?"

The sudden, gruff voice snapped Yang out of her observations. They had come across a makeshift gate, flanked on both sides by similar makeshift watchtowers, only slightly taller than the stakes around them. Both towers emitted no light from within, obscuring the guards manning them in darkness.

"What, you don't remember your boss once she dyes her hair?" Rook said, chuckling.

"Well, I guess I didn't know she was a fan of blond hair," came the reply, closely followed by a snort.

The gate creaked open, baring the innards of the camp for her to see. She glanced around as she followed him past, turning her head left and right. A vast expanse of tents and tepees of varying sizes dotted the land, all hidden within the shade of natural trees and artificial tree-like structures. Assortments of wooden boxes and barrels surrounded many of the tents and tepees, doubling as stashes and furniture.

Dozens of heads swiveled over to meet her gaze. If Yang could use one word to describe the lot of them, she would use rugged. Many of the inhabitants bore visible scars on their flesh, and nearly all seemed to bear invisible scars hidden away beneath their eyes, of experiences better left untold and sights better left forgotten. They stared at her, irises of colors from brilliant yellow to milky gray to leafy green watching her with growing curiosity. Many stopped amid their conversations, and those who continued hushed enough that they were wholly inaudible to her ears. Their attire, primarily bearing similarity to Rook's, screamed of wear, with tears and stains dotting the fabrics. But perhaps what surprised Yang the most was the number of Faunus milling about; she could swear her once-over counted up more present in the camp than the past few days she had spent on the road.

She stopped her observations when they approached the largest tent in view, elevated by a pair of two wooden platforms. The two flaps of the entrance split up a terrifying painting of a Grimm head right down the middle, and the glow from two nearby dust lamps emphasized the shadows well enough to give the impression it were alive with the movement of the wind.

"Wait here," Rook whispered, twirling the fingers that held his bag of alcohol. He smirked, and sidled himself inside the tent.

Straining her ears, Yang could just barely make out his distinct voice.

"I'm back," he said, in a rather uncharacteristic sing-song manner.

The voice that replied to him halted her heart. Though it was the first time she ever heard it, it rang through her ears, tickling it in a nostalgic way. It reminded her of… What _did_ it remind her of? She couldn't quite place her finger on it.

"You're rather late."

"Well, I return bearing a great many gifts." She heard the clatter of a great many wine bottles striking one another, a sound she remembered all too well from her uncle.

"Is that so? From the looks of it, you barely brought back enough for a week."

"Ah, these can be considered as but one of my _many_ gifts."

"Oh? What else do you have for me?"

He snickered. "Someone I think you'll be very surprised to see." In one grand and unexpected motion, he brushed the flap of the tent wide open, allowing mother and daughter to lay eyes upon one another.

Yang straightened her body, and her eyes went wide. There sat Raven, her mouth slightly agape and her brow raised. The passage of time had not been as kind to her as it had been to her brother; traces of wrinkles had formed on her pale face, and two large, gray bags hung underneath her eyes. Yet everything else resembled the woman in the photograph perfectly, from her garb that matched the red of her irises to the cowlick standing above her head.

"Yang," Raven murmured. She gestured towards the seat across from her.

Yang responded instinctively, though each step she took, she took with grave deliberation. Her legs had never felt heavier than they did as she ascended the platforms and stepped inside the tent. Following a drawn out, audible breath that struggled to calm her shaking nerves, she sat down in front of her mother.

"I'll let you two ladies talk it out in private," Rook said, bowing and showing himself out with a smile.

Silence filled the tent, both occupants paying no notice to the muffled noises from outside leaking in. Neither soul moved, choosing only to stare into the other's eyes with an incomprehensible mix of emotions.

The entire journey, from the moment she stepped foot outside her home in Patch to the moment she stepped foot into her mother's tent, a million questions and thoughts had swirled within her head. How many times had she played out the current situation in her mind during the slog through the forest? How many different ways had she planned for the conversation to go, only to completely reconsider from scratch a moment later? How long had she spent rehearsing her words and crafting probably replies from her mother?

Yet now, face to face with the woman who abandoned her so many years ago, none of those words came to her. The moment she entered and looked into those crimson eyes, the eyes she had only seen before in the old photo, her thoughts congealed into a bubbling mass that lodged itself in her throat, preventing her from speaking.

In the end, Raven was the one to break the silence. She tilted her head, and the corner of her lip curved ever so slightly upwards. "So," she said, moving for the simmering teacup before her. "After all these years, you've finally come to visit me."

Yang sucked in her breath. Her eyes darkened, beginning to turn into the same crimson that her mother held, while her hands clenched into fists so tight her knuckles whitened. "What?" she whispered through gritted teeth. Of all the possibilities she had gone through, this was not one of them. For her mother, the one who left her, to imply that _she_ should have come sooner? Ten years of frustration and anger ignited within her, incinerating the lump in her throat. "How can you even say that? Do you even know how long I've searched for you? What I've been through, looking for you? I… I almost died trying to find you!"

Raven's irises flickered. "It might have helped if you were looking on the right continent," she said, raising her brow as she took a sip of her tea.

She slammed her fist onto the table. Memories of the near-death experience alongside her younger sister flashed through her thoughts: of the joy when a day long trek led her to a pair of red eyes; of the surprise when those eyes returned her gaze not with familiarity, but predation; of the fear when many dozen more pairs of orange and red eyes appeared from the shadows, and even her childish mind could comprehend her coming end.

She remembered the crushing guilt that haunted her for years to come from nearly getting her beloved little sister killed, but she also remembered the relieved face of her father when her uncle escorted them home. His recent words echoed in her head.

Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes. When she reopened them, her irises had returned to their original lilac color. When she spoke again, she no longer verged on the border of screaming. "How was I supposed to know? Dad… He only talked about you after mo- after Summer disappeared. And the only time Qrow would even say your name would be to tell me to drop the search."

"But you still arrived. You persevered in your goal, even against the wishes of your foolish uncle. So tell me, what brought you here? What made you so determined to seek me out that you'd even disobey dear old Qrow?"

"I didn't come to Mistral just for you," she snarled back. An image of Ruby, of her pure and sweet smile that always reminded her of the wonderful woman whose time in her life was tragically cut short.

Raven sighed deeply. She set her teacup down and crossed her arms. "Of course you didn't. Let me guess, you came to find that sister of yours." She waited for the hesitant nod to come forth before she continued. "Still, you didn't head straight for Haven. Instead, you took the long way around, and-"

"I want to hear it from your own mouth."

"And what would 'it' be?"

Yang closed her eyes, her fists finally relaxing, even if just for a moment. "The reason you left us. The reason you left me." Reopening them, she stared directly at her mother. "You had everything! Dad love you so much. People said Team STRQ was the best huntsman team in the world even before you graduated. And then you had me. I was just a baby. But you abandoned all of it. You abandoned Summer, you abandoned Qrow, you abandoned Dad."

She pressed her hand against her chest, as if attempting to suppress a decade's worth of hidden emotions from bubbling forth. "Everyone. _Me_."

The grin left her mother's face as she broke eye contact to cast a downward gaze.

Yang struggled to find emotion within those crimson spheres. Something, anything to unravel the mystery, to give her something to work off of. But, as much as she tried, her mother betrayed nothing.

Sucking in her breath, she continued. "And for what? For this?" she said, gesturing around them, at the almost dilapidated condition of the tent, of walls baring no signs of homeliness. "To be a criminal out in the woods? To be with criminals for the rest of your life? Why?"

Silenced returned to the room. Yang waited for the answer, unmoving. She knew it would never occur, but deep inside, she wished for her childhood fantasy to come true, for her mother to apologize and embrace and return home with her. So she waited. Ten seconds became twenty, and twenty seconds became forty. Right as her patience ran thin and she opened her mouth to press the question, Raven spoke.

"Do you know why your uncle and I became huntsmen?"

Yang furrowed her brow as yet again, she received an unexpected and unrelated reply. "What does that have to do with anything? Don't change the sub-"

"Your uncle and I became huntsmen to learn how to _kill_ huntsmen."

Her eyes widened, as did her jaw. Her heart stopped as her brain struggled to process what she just heard. "W- What?"

Seeing her daughter beholden with shock, or perhaps disbelief, Raven snorted. "Daddy and Uncle Qrow never told you that, did they? People become huntsmen for many different reasons. Some do it for fame, others for fortune, and still others because they believe in nonsense like helping the greater good. But not us. We were born in this tribe. This…is what raised us, sheltered us, fed us, taught us everything we knew. Without these…_criminals_, we wouldn't be here today. So when we came of age, we were entrusted with the task of becoming huntsmen, and we accepted it. Once we learned how they worked, we would return to the tribe with new, better knowledge on how to deal with them and Grimm, our two greatest enemies."

Yang's head still echoed from the previous sentence. _Kill huntsmen_. There was no way it could be true. She refused to believe it. But each successive word came spilling forth without hesitation, in a manner-of-fact manner. She could find no hints of falsehood on her mother's face. Her doubt stood on shaky ground.

"And so we enrolled into Beacon. We were the strongest, the fastest, the best. Simply put, we were the perfect candidates, and after everything we'd been through, the famous Beacon entrance exam ended up nothing more than a joke."

"I… I don't under- no, I don't believe it," Yang muttered, raising her hands to hold her head. The revelation scrambled her thoughts, and she felt the familiar lump return to her throat. "Then…does that mean- Did you- So you left because they found out?"

Raven slowly shook her head, the corners of her lips curving up. "No, they found out long before I left."

"Then why?"

"Simple," she said, closing her eyes. "The tribe called. Your uncle didn't answer back, but I did."

Yang grit her teeth. That was it? That was the whole reason? She was left behind for her entire life because some stupid tribe came first? When she looked up, she could see nothing but white. "But you had me!" she cried out, rising from her seat in one quick motion that nearly upended the table if not for her slamming her fists down upon it. "You had _me_! I'm your daughter! How could you just leave me like that? How could you just leave me and never come back to see me? Did I matter to you? Did you even care about me?"

She choked back tears, her hands trembling from a torrent of emotions. In her outburst, she put to words the question she really wanted answered all along. Had her mother ever thought about her in all those years past? Had her mother ever fallen asleep with thoughts drifting to her, as she had done so many times? Had her mother ever yearned to be reunited with her, as she had yearned? Every fiber of her being pulled and tugged at her to move forward, to truly stand face-to-face with Raven, to grip her and shake her until the answers spilled out. But her legs were leaden with trepidation.

No reply came. Time crawled. One minute turned into two, but to her, ten lifetimes flew by. Only the slow rise and fall of their chests as they breathed marked any sort of movement in the room.

Finally sick of the silence, her lips quivering, Yang unveiled the sneaking suspicion that had gnawed away at her for so long. In a low voice, barely audible even amid the silence, she asked, "Summer loved me more than you ever did, didn't she?"

Raven slapped the table with a resounding thud, in a fashion so quick and sudden that even Yang jumped. For the first time, she could make out a glint in those crimson eyes, one that struck fear and pause into her heart. Just as quickly as she noticed them, though, they disappeared.

"Perhaps you need some time to calm down, Yang. You're…tired. Rook will show you where you can stay. I'll have the cooks whip up something nice for-"

"Was I a mistake to you?" she spat out, a single tear forming large enough to drip its way down her face.

Raven's clenched fist hidden beneath the table began to shake, unbeknownst to Yang, who kept her eyes trained upon her mother's unmoving facial expression. She searched it, scanned it for an affirmation, waited for a denial, even if one came half-heartedly.

When nothing changed, she turned towards the exit. She had never felt pain like the pain she felt now: the pain of a broken and shattered heart, of childhood dreams torn completely asunder. Even the pain of losing her arm felt seemed insignificant compared to now. She wanted to cry, to let loose the floodgates, but she would not do so here. Not in front of that cold-hearted woman behind her, who bore no resemblance to the warm, smiling woman in the photo.

Reaching the flap of the tent, she heard Raven speak one more time before she stepped outside: "You have your own answer already, don't you? And nothing I say will change your mind."


End file.
